Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
A va came out of her room the next morning to the yeasty scent of baking bread. Her mom was sitting at the kitchen table, staring through the window at the lake as if she carried some kind of burden. Did she wipe a tear?
“Morning,” Ava said, making her presence known. “You okay?”
Her mom seemed to swim out of whatever it was. “Yes, totally fine.” She got up from the table and busied herself with rinsing out her mug in the sink. She added dish soap, scrubbing the mug with a rag with more focus than Ava really thought necessary. “How did you sleep?”
“Good.” Ava came around to her side of the counter. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes!” Martha rinsed the mug and turned it over to dry on the dish towel. “I’m baking croissants. They’ll be ready any minute.”
“Want another cup of coffee? We could sit out on the front porch for a change. I’d like to take in the fall colors,” Ava said cautiously .
“That sounds lovely.”
Ava got down a mug for herself and brewed coffee while her mother took the croissants out of the oven and divided the flaky bread, adding a slice of Gruyère, andthen plating two of them. She served one to Ava.
They took their breakfast to the front porch, settling in the rocking chairs next to the wood pile.
“Who chops that for you?” Ava asked, nodding toward the logs and then sitting down in one of the rocking chairs and placing her plate on her lap. “You don’t do it yourself, do you?”
“There’s a farmer down the road who’ll bring me a cord of wood for $120, and he stacks it for me.” Her mother sat in the rocker next to Ava’s. “It’s helpful when you live alone.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you like living alone?” Martha asked.
Ava set her mug onto the side table made from a tree stump. “I used to. But I’m not sure anymore.”
A spark of interest shone in her mom’s eyes. “What’s changed?”
Ava pushed against the wooden floor, rocking back in the chair and pulling off a gooey, cheesy bite of her croissant.
“When I was working all hours, I scheduled my day—the gym, my jogs, clients, work, dinner, coffee. But now, I don’t feel the pull to do that.
I have no job to rush off to, no promotion to strive for. ”
“In a way, we’re similar creatures. I spent all my time caring for you and your dad. I cooked, cleaned, ran errands, took you to and from school. Then, when both of you were gone, I had the same moment of introspection.”
Ava reached over and took her mother’s hand. “I should’ve spent more time with you.”
Martha’s eyes glassed over, and she gave Ava a squeeze. “It’s been really nice having you home. ”
“Lucas isn’t coming over until late afternoon. Let’s do something special today,” Ava said.
Her mother’s brows raised in interest.
“Why don’t we go into Nashville and see what we can get into?”
Her mom brightened. “Sounds like a plan to me!” She held up her coffee in a mock toast.
Ava clinked her mug to her mother’s and they took a drink.
Ava carried a bouquet of flowers in the crook of her arm as she and her mother wandered down the streets of Nashville’s 16th Avenue on Music Row, just a short distance from downtown. They’d chosen to take a walk there because it was quieter than the bustling tourist areas and more charming.
They’d driven from the farmers’ market to Music Row and parked along the leafy street full of bungalows.
At the market, they’d moseyed through aisles of fresh produce and local fare, sampling scented homemade lotions, farm-made baked goods, and honey from nearby beekeepers.
Ava had settled on the gorgeous bouquet as her keepsake.
The market put her in a festive mood, so she carried her flowers on their walk just so she could take in the scent of them.
The city felt alive, and Ava was ready to embrace every moment of it. It seemed like ages since she’d been in her urban element. But without her usual timetable, she was able to take it all in instead of rushing through.
She admired the vibrant shades of gold on the trees that dotted the sidewalk. An orange leaf fluttered down in front of them, carried on a cool breeze. The Southern heat was finally subsiding. Before long, they’d need their jackets .
What would the winter bring? Would she be back in her apartment and taking the subway to escape the freezing temperatures and falling snow?
What would her position at McGregor look like?
She’d have to answer to her new boss, Scott Strobel.
She’d have to work overtime so their conversations wouldn’t feel awkward, given that he’d won the position and she hadn’t.
She wouldn’t think about it now, though. Instead, Ava focused on the present.
The creative atmosphere of Nashville filled Ava with a buzz of possibility. This city was built upon big dreams, and the historic studios were a tangible symbol of those dreams.
“I don’t think I’ve ever stopped to realize how great this city really is,” Ava said as they walked.
Martha’s eyes sparkled with affection. “There’s something incredible about downtown in autumn. It’s different. There’s an undercurrent of calm. The heat is over, and we haven’t yet reached the bustle of the holidays.”
“Let’s sit for a minute and enjoy it,” Ava suggested. She pointed to an empty bench under a maple tree outside one of the historic bungalows that had been converted into arecording studio in the 1950s, along with many others.
Ava sat and put the paper-wrapped bouquet in her lap. She admired the sunflowers, dahlias, and zinnias. She’d never once bought herself flowers. Probably because she wasn’t ever home long enough to enjoy them. They’d be perfect in her mom’s cabin.
Her mother sat beside her, a small smile on her lips for no apparent reason.
“I’m glad we came,” Ava said, emotion taking hold again.
“It’s good to be together—just us. Growing up, you were with your dad so much. I never wanted to infringe on that time, so I sat back and allowed the two of you to bond. But I was always a little envious of him.”
The quiet street mirrored the moment—as if it had slowed down just for them. Ava put her arm around her mother and Martha gave her a squeeze. Then, Ava checked the time on her phone.
“We still have another hour or so. How about we get ourselves one of those decadent fall coffees—an apple-cider or pumpkin-spice latte?”
Martha’s face lit up. “That sounds like the perfect way to end our afternoon.”
They made their way to a nearby coffee shop, another little bungalow tucked under the trees a few streets over. The scents of cinnamon and sugar and the whine of the expresso machines filled the space.
“What do you fancy?” Ava asked, handing her bouquet to her mother. “I’ll get our drinks if you get us a spot to sit.”
“Surprise me.”
Her mother sat at a corner table while Ava put in their orders.
As Ava waited for their coffees, she gazed out the large picture window.
Even on this side street, people still passed by at a clip, busy with their day, as she stood there with no idea of what she wanted to do beyond this minute.
Less than a month ago, she’d been one of those people—hurried, driven, focused. Who was she now?
She returned with two mugs and set them on the table. “I got us each a salted caramel apple butter latte.”
Her mother’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my.”
“Go big or go home.”
Martha laughed, taking a sip and closing her eyes as if to appreciate it.
As they sat together in the buzz of the shop, Ava didn’t want their time to end. The beauty of fall in Nashville was irrefutable, but it was the time she spent with her mother—just the two of them—that she savored most.